Old

So, I was talkin' to my papa on his death bed.
With a smile on his face, here's what he said.

On the day I came out of my mama's womb
I found myself in the delivery room.

All bloody and wet I rappelled to the floor.
I cut the umbilical and crawled to the door.

I had a Humvee stroller and a tricycle tank.
Three safety pins on each shoulder for rank.

A camouflage diaper and baby dress blues.
A butter knife sword and black baby shoes.

I showered and dressed and then cruised the ward.
Saluting the nurses with my butter knife sword.

I heard all the babies just crying like heck.
I stormed thru the door, yelled "Attention on deck"!

"Listen up wimps! I'm in command.
Cryin' and whinin' I can not stand"!

When they said "Aye, aye sir"! I had it made.
Commanding officer. Baby Brigade.

Papa laid back and then he died.
I lowered my head, but didn't dare cry.

This is a story I love to tell.
My pop's the commandant of Marines in Hell.

~PFC Moysard, 1987, Infantry Training School, Camp Pendleton, CA.